


Change the Game

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Hair Kink, Hand & Finger Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27352078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: The game is afoot, and then Parker goes and changes the damn rules.
Relationships: Parker/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 53





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blarfkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarfkey/gifts).



> Her: "I love the OT3, but I think there's not enough Eliot/Parker."
> 
> Me, internally: oshit, she may be right. Better write some to see if I can.

Eliot doesn't notice right away. He knows Parker is sitting behind him, perched on the back of the couch like she normally is during these pre-job debriefings. He obviously knows she's touching him, he registers the feeling right away, but he doesn't notice how it's affecting him right away.

Parker braids his hair, tugging the stray wisps to and fro and straightening them into line and tying them into the braid. It's tight and straight and it's kind of winding him up a little. Eliot feels a familiar tension in his shoulders, a tightness in chest. He bats her hands away.

She stays away for maybe ten minutes until Hardison starts droning on about something that doesn't interest her. Parker unravels the braid she already put in and starts again after parting it straight down the middle. She hits a tangle as she combs her fingers through and he hisses her name.

"Parker, come on," he says, physically removing her hands from his head.

"Sorry," she says flatly. Eliot feels her fidgeting behind him for the rest of the debrief, but she doesn't put her hands in his hair again.

* * *

They're halfway through the job and they end up stranded in a shitty motel room while Nate, Sophie, and Hardison deal with the mark.

Eliot puts some inane movie on for background noise and opens one of Hardison's laptops to look for something to do.

Parker gets bored of the movie almost instantly and hops from one bed to the other, settling in next to him to read over his shoulder. But she quickly gets bored of that too.

"Can I play with your hair?"

Eliot pauses his reading for a second. The flight out, Parker asked him four hundred and one questions. It had been… excruciating wasn't quite the right word, but it hadn't been fun.

Maybe if she was focused on braiding, she'd be less interested in questions. Maybe.

"Sure," he says finally, trying to sound put upon.

Parker starts out with braids again, divvying his hair into pieces and doing all sorts of intricate four and five strand patterns. Eliot doesn't mind and finds it easy enough to ignore while he reads.

When she untangles the messy braids and starts just carding her fingers through his hair instead, he tenses up, just a little. It's a different sensation, a lot harder to ignore. Parker fans it out around his shoulders and brings her hands back to his head, digging her powerful fingertips into his scalp.

Eliot surprises both of them with the noise he makes, a full-on _purr_.

He clears his throat, and pretends it didn't happen, because what the hell else is he supposed to do? But the damage is done. Can't unring that bell.

Parker, it seems, is fascinated. She repeats the motion. Eliot bites back another embarrassing noise. Parker twists a lock around her finger and give a light tug. He can feel her eyes on him, studying him like suddenly he's a mark or that 1880 Ahern safe she's been coveting. Like she could figure him out in a second if he let her. Eliot schools his expression blank and shifts the laptop as minimally as he can while still disguising his dick twitching to attention in his jeans.

He's not sure if she registers that, but either way, the game is on for her.

Not every time she gets a chance, because then at least he could anticipate it, but maybe half the time she sees an opening, Parker messes with his hair. It's almost always something that could be easily explained away if someone caught her, but Parker's sleight of hand is out of this world and no one ever does.

It's windy in Seattle (imagine that) and he doesn't have a hair tie, so it's flying around everywhere. When they finally get inside, she combs her fingers through it, coaxing it to straighten up the same way Sophie's adjusting Hardison's tie.

Eliot's finishing up some dishes in Nate's apartment, because when are they not at Nate's apartment, and Parker pulls his hair back off his face and ties it up, all strong, sure hands.

The worst is when she tugs on it, just intense little bursts of feeling through his scalp and down his spine. He grits his teeth and doesn't make a noise. He's not sure what would happen if he did, if that would ruin Parker's game or spur it to a new place.

Once, she comes up behind and he braces for some kind of touch. She just presses her fingertips into the base of his skull, a firm pressure and no real tease, but it sets him off like nothing else.

And the worst thing is Eliot can't just tell her to knock it off. He wanted to, initially, opened his mouth to say something, but she shot him a Look, something half innocent and half the opposite and it burned him down where he stood. Now he just lets her fuck with him, not really knowing what she's getting out of it, but knowing damn well what he is.

Eliot is alone in his apartment. The radio is on low, everything clean and put away, dinner is done but it's too early to sleep. He looks for something to take his attention. He picks up a book and puts it down a few minutes later. There's only golf on the sports channel and he's never been that bored before. Even the prospect of doing a hundred push ups, normally his fall back for when he's restless and at odds, holds nothing for him. 

He ends up in bed anyway, even though the sun just set. His sleep schedule won't thank him, but his boredom is threatening to turn into a sullen mood.

When he flops over, he accidentally pulls his own hair and the now-familiar zing of sensation goes down his spine. The itch that's been building for weeks thanks to Parker is insistent and suddenly very present.

Well… it's not like he's got any other plans.

It's easy, the way he pushes his pj bottoms down and takes his cock in hand, and it's familiar. What's very foreign in this moment isn't the way the friction sends a jolt to every nerve in his body, or the way he lets his head fall back into the pillow, it's how he can only conjure up the image of Parker when he closes his eyes. 

He chases her out of his mind, thinking about anyone else, but it's Parker. Her whole thing is getting into where she's not supposed to be. He bites his lip, briefly wondering how much shit he's setting himself up for down the line if he just lets this play out in his mind tonight.

Eliot imagines what she'd be like under him, and quickly switches to what she'd be like riding him, on display, rolling her hips, bracing herself on his biceps. He pictures that pretty blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, obscuring her breasts, and the way she probably bites her lip when she's getting close.

But more, he imagines before all that, they way they'd tease each other first, how she'd shiver and clutch at him when he kisses her neck, how her eyes would flutter closed when he whispers in her ear.

Eliot spills come over his hand quickly, the ghost of Parker's touch still tickling his skin. He should feel something, beyond a thrill of satisfaction. Something akin to guilt maybe, or shame, for using her to get off, but he doesn't. He just feels like he normally does after he's come. 

And if he does it all over again an hour later, well, that's his business.

* * *

The next time Parker tugs at his hair, Eliot's cock goes hard almost immediately, like some wires got crossed since he jacked off imagining the way her breath would hitch if he slid two fingers inside her. And yeah, thinking that thought probably wasn't helping anything get uncrossed.

She's definitely noticed. "Eliot?" she asks. It doesn't sound accusatory or like she's offended, just an idle curiosity.

"Go on," he says, motioning for her to walk past him, out of the room.

She does, in the most obnoxious way possible, brushing her hip against his dick even though there's three feet of space she could walk through instead. "Sorry," she says, not sorry.

And with that, she's changed the game.

Eliot might not have her quickness or lightness when it comes to pulling off surreptitious touching, but he's no slouch. It's not her hair, he decides quickly. She shot him an annoyed look the first time he tugged at it.

It's not her ass, though he certainly doesn't mind trying it a few times to be sure.

Parker pauses an extra second too long, the first time his hand makes contact with one of her breasts, but it's not the pay off he was hoping for. He makes a mental note about it, possibly to circle back to it later.

When he finally cracks it a week later, he hates himself a little for not getting it sooner. He also hates how she's clearly winning, because he's a nervous fucking wreck every time he sees her now and she looks the same, impervious to anything and everything.

He brushes his fingers across the back of her hand and her breath hitches in her throat. There's no one else around, just the two of them, so Eliot ups the ante immediately, turning her hand over in his and dragging his fingertips over, like he's reading her palm.

She shivers, like actually, visibly shivers.

Of course it would be her hands, the things she relies on to steal, to dangle from ropes a hundred feet from solid ground, to keep her alive in tricky situations.

Eliot watches her shudder and thinks back to most recent fantasies. He relies on instinct, rather than sense, and raises her hand to his lips, kissing gently at the pulse in her wrist.

And bingo, just like that, he's got her. The game changes again.

Parker follows him home that night and slips in the quickly closing door behind him. 

He makes her dinner, because A, hospitality, and B, he's an idiot who apparently wants to drag this out past the weeks it's already been going on. 

She watches him cook and barely says a word, says only that she likes to watch him work. Eliot preens a little, because hey, that's a compliment.

He had a thought as they eat, and it lingers on his mind while she washes the dishes and he puts them away. 

Maybe it's just a game, maybe there is no pay off, no winning, and the joy is in the game itself. It's Parker, after all. She's a bit… different. 

With the dishes done, she turns to him, reaching out to dry her hands on his tee shirt. She doesn't let go right away, just sort of stands there with his shirt in her damp hands. 

"Can I take you to bed?" It comes out flat when he asks her, just a straightforward question.

"No. I've been flirting for six weeks because I wanted to wash your dishes," she says.

"That supposed to be sarcasm?" She's not normally one for sarcasm, and she definitely didn't hit the right intonation. Parker's somehow spending too much and not enough time with Hardison.

She glares at him, but without much heat. "It was."

"All right," he says. Neither of them moves. He's prepared to stand here all night, if that's what it takes. She finally blinks first and sighs. 

"Well?"

"Well nothing. You said no, Parker. No isn't very encouraging."

"Well then, yes. I want to change my answer."

"'Yes' to what?" It's partially a Thing he's got, that he's got to hear the yes, and it's a little because he's right and she flushes so fucking prettily when he prods her for an answer.

"Take me to bed. Now."


	2. ii.

"Take me to bed. Now."

Eliot's not so cruel as to draw it out past there; his mama raised a gentleman. Plus Parker's already started reeling him in with his shirt still fisted in her hand.

The kiss happens simultaneous to a few things, namely her climbing him and wrapping her legs around his waist, and the completely _obscene_ noise she makes.

The noise floors him a little, but in the best way possible.

In Eliot's wildest dreams, he never would have expected she would be so vocal. She whimpers when he nips at her lip, she sighs dreamily when he grabs her ass and lifts her a little higher, she outright moans when he shifts her to free up a hand and then twines their fingers together.

It's as easy as anything to walk them over to the bed and deposit her there. She laughs and beckons him to follow. Parker starts stripping him out of his clothes the moment he's in range again, and if some part of him had thought about maybe taking it slow, that part of him is long gone now.

Kissing Parker is… it's odd, insofar as it feels so, so damn natural. Her mouth is pliant under his and she clutches at his shoulders, moaning easily and freely. Eliot bites at her bottom lip, teases over the same spot with his tongue, and swallows up every little noise she feeds him. 

"S'good," he murmurs, even though she probably doesn't need to be told. She makes another, more insistent noise, and rolls her body, pressing every bit of her against him.

"More?" she asks, barely pulling away to get the word out. And how could any kind of gentleman deny her?

Eliot gets his hands up under her shirt and peels it away from her, breaking their lips apart for just a second. There's no bra, he notes with interest, and before he can have another thought about it, he's cupping both her breasts and toying with her nipples. She shudders appreciatively and falls back onto the bed.

It's only when she bucks her hips again, pressing up against the hard length of his cock straining against his underwear, that he remembers she's not out of her jeans yet. Eliot's taken one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and feeling the flesh stiffen to hardness.

On a job he can multitask, but this isn't like any job. He lets her wiggle under him for a while longer while he switches to the other side and gives her all the attention he feels she needs. She's gasping, fingers twitching on his shoulders, alternating between gentle strokes and digging nails. Suddenly, she's got a fistful of his hair and is all but dragging him back into a searing kiss. Eliot knows the noise he makes is undignified, but she's _pulling his hair_ and demanding to be kissed, and it's doing things to him he never thought possible.

"Fuck," he mutters, cutting the curse off with a huff. He kisses her again and again, and the tension in his hair goes slack as Parker gets what she wants. She ruts up again, bringing them together and finally, yeah, she gets what she wants. Eliot flicks open the top button on her jeans and she slides right out of them, long legs unfolding and, oh jesus lord.

"No panties?" he asks her. He fully pulls away, startled out of the moment by the weirdness that is Parker sometimes.

"Just get in the way," she says, by way of explanation. She plucks at the elastic waistband of his. "See?"

He'll have to ponder the wisdom there later on, because she's dragging the hand he's not leaning on towards her pussy and he wants to be present for all of this. Parker brings his hand right up to her skin and then stops, letting him go. She looks up at him, expectant. 

"What do you want?" he asks. Obviously, he knows what in the general sense, but he likes a little more specific direction. She blushes, which is another reason he asked.

"I want… Ugh." Parker crosses her arm over her eyes. She reaches out, eyes still hidden and takes his hand again, pushing his fingers and molding it into the shape she's thinking of; pointer and middle finger outstretched, the rest tucked up against his palm.

Eliot obviously would prefer her to just say it, but this was kind of endearing in it's own way, and coupled with the fact that her cheeks, neck and the tops of her breasts are flushing scarlet against her pretty golden hair… he could work with this. He settles himself between Parker's thighs, pulling her a little closer for better access.

She's already wet when he teases her entrance open with two fingers. Eliot thinks it prudent to start with one, but despite their current position, he's going to let her dictate where they're going and how they get there.

When he slides his two fingers into her, Parker's hands scrabble on the bed for something to cling to and she makes the prettiest gasp. Eliot commits every second of it to memory. Soon she's grinding down against his hand and biting off curses left and right.

"Good?" he asks. Eliot smoothes his other hand over her trembling thigh.

"Ughhn," she says feelingly. "Eliot."

Hearing his name is good, especially in those tones, drawn out and breathy, a little hitch right at the end. His dick perks up, very interested.

He curves his fingers inside her, beckoning at just the spot, and she tightens around him before going still. Eliot watches her tongue come out to wet her lips, follows the motion with hungry eyes, and then he's on her mouth again, licking kisses into her mouth. She drags fingernails over his bare back and tugs gently at his hair again, twisting it up in her fingers.

Eliot's more than content to let her play with his hair and make little noises into his mouth forever, but it seems Parker has other plans. She snakes one arm between their bodies, not that Eliot's left much room, and makes a grab for his cock.

He leans back a bit, allowing her access. Parker palms him through the thin fabric of his boxers. Eliot can feel the strength in her hands, the sureness in her grip, as she takes hold and strokes him. The friction from the fabric is too much and he's got to push her hands away so he can shimmy free.

Parker laughs, which isn't exactly what he expects the first time he gets naked with a new partner, but it's Parker, after all, and there doesn't seem to be any malice behind it.

Still, he grumbles. "Parker, are you serious --"

"Sorry," she says, kissing an apology to the side of his mouth. "I'm just… happy."

Eliot's annoyance vanishes and he pulls her to a sitting position. "Yeah?" he asks, wanting her to say it again.

"Yeah," she confirms. "Why, should I be something else?"

He's quick to assure her with a kiss and a thumb over one of her nipples again, enjoying her shudder. "It's good," he promises.

And it continues to be good.

Parker pushes her face into his neck, nuzzling him like a cat and nipping at the thin skin, and rubbing her wet pussy against his thigh, which is increasingly fucking with his ability to concentrate. He doesn't remember why he pulled her into his lap in the first place, so he just pushes her back to lying down and starts kissing at her thigh instead.

She murmurs something he doesn't hear and when he looks up to confirm he's on the right track, Parker just pushes him back down. Eliot laps at her, getting a taste for her and frankly, loving it. She has a handful of his hair and she's holding on with just enough force that his erection is at full strength again.

Eating her out and getting every reaction under the sun from her is a joy. She is so responsive to his touch, and every time he does something she particularly likes, Parker tugs on his hair or presses her fingers into his scalp. It's kind of the best thing ever.

She's on the verge -- Eliot can tell from the way she hasn't let up on his hair in the last two minutes, and her hips keep rising higher and higher until he presses her back down onto the bed. He's not sure if Parker's the kind of girl who wants to go again right after she comes, or if she'll want to cuddle, or just leave. Obviously, they didn't have that much of a conversation about it before they got carried away. But he's a goddamn gentleman and he's not going to stop just on the chance he might not get his.

He licks at her clit, swirling his tongue around it and feeling her tighten like a bowstring under him. Eliot takes a gamble and slides one finger inside her, pressing at the spot that got him such a reaction last time. Parker comes then, in the most gorgeous arrangement of whimpering and sighs, pressing her wetness to his mouth and clutching at his hair.

Eliot backs off, lets her come down from it slowly, and waits to see what she's going to want next.

She grabs at his hand as he tries to brush his hair off his forehead, tugging him in for another kiss. "Good, so good," she confirms. "Now you?"

"Yeah, of course," Eliot says, holding his hands out. "How do you wanna...?"

Parker smiles at him and he can't quite tell what it means. "Fuck me?" she asks. 

Eliot knows what that means, at least. There's a condom in the bedside table and a few other trinkets he passes over. Maybe next time. No time is wasted rolling the condom on, because he can do it one handed and use his other hand to tangle their fingers together. Parker hums contentedly and spreads her legs apart for him.

There's little use for a preamble at this point; she's literally dripping wet and looking at him with that expectant look. Still, Eliot brushes his thumb over her clit for good measure. She giggles and runs her hands down his sides, tickling as she does.

"Fuck, Parker," he says, pushing in in one easy movement. She sighs and lets her head loll back on the pillows.

"Good," she groans. "Feels so good."

He agrees wholeheartedly, setting up a slow, easy rhythm. If he'd known how easy it would be, how familiar, he would have suggested this months ago. She's still so responsive to his touch, moreso even than before she came.

Parker arches up every time he pushes back in and pulls him in close so she can toy with his hair. She rubs at his scalp, has him practically purring. Eliot returns the favour by taking her hand in his and kissing at her fingertips. He chokes on another curse word, hips stuttering as she moans out his name.

She clenches around his cock, rolling her hips to meet him when he falters so they don't lose the pace. Eliot could kiss her. In fact, he _could_ kiss her.

Eliot comes then, with her squirming happily under him and sucking at his bottom lip.

"Jesus, Parker," he says, pressing his forehead to hers while he catches his breath.

She shoves him off and he worries for a moment it was too close, too intimate, but Parker just resettles on top of him and returns the forehead press against his jaw. "Yeah," she says. "Glad you finally got the picture."

"'Finally?' What, do you think you were being subtle all this time?"

"Why else did it take you so long?"

"Because! Because I wasn't sure what you were up to!"

"Because I was being subtle," Parker points out.

There's no winning, absolutely none, with Parker. She's the only one that's allowed to win. His orgasm was simply second place and he'd have to be content with that. He was content, make no mistake, but winning an argument is in a different category to sex and everyone knows it.

He kisses her again instead of continuing to argue, brushing his fingers over her sensitive clit again, just to get a rise from her. Parker shrieks and laughs, batting at his hands.

"Come on," he says, trying not to sound overly fond. "Let's get cleaned up."

* * *

She spends the night, wrapped up in Eliot's arms and his favourite blanket.

In the morning, she insists on sucking him off in the shower, which is a totally dangerous idea that agrees to instantly. He's only human. 

He makes her breakfast and she watches him cook.

"Can I come back?" she asks, before she's even left.

It seems an unreal question, but he sees the truth of it in her eyes. Eliot raises her hand to his lips and kisses "Yes, Parker, you're invited back."

"For sex, or just for like, work stuff?"

Eliot huffs out a laugh. "Anything you want. Sex, dinner, work stuff."

"Oh. Good. Thank you."

He kisses her again, because now that he's started, it'll be hard to stop. And it's less weird than saying 'you're welcome.'

Eliot's not sure about all the rules to the game they're playing now, but when Parker kisses him back, sweet, steady, and long, he figures he'll play a few rounds and find out.


End file.
